


Give him back

by Selestiles



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Blood, F/M, Injury, the hulk is hashtag worried
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-11
Updated: 2019-04-11
Packaged: 2020-01-11 08:17:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18426648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selestiles/pseuds/Selestiles
Summary: The Hulk is not an idiot, he knows when he is needed and he knows when he is not.





	Give him back

One beat, two.

The sky explodes with red heat. The force of the explosion sends you stumbling forward from your perch and onto the hard concrete. You fall wrong, of course.

Your ankle twists and snaps beneath you, the pain rattles your bones.

“GodfUCKIN’!! Ahahouch!” You stay down, hands shaking over your broken ankle and tears springing from your eyes.

Another explosion behind you, this one sends chunks of concrete raining around you, one flies so close to your head that you can feel it brush against your hair.

“Everything alright kiddo?” you can barely hear Tony’s voice through your ear piece over the sound of fighting and gunshots.

“Yeah” your voice shakes “they won’t let me get any closer.”

You’re more worried about the others, who are in the thick of the action. Your com crackles with the sound of gunshots, and you can see Tony in the distance, only a red blur in the smoke-filled sky.

“Anyone free to help her? I’m kinda busy at the mome-oof” Steve is cut off suddenly, but then there is a grunt and the hollow clang of his shield hitting something head-on.

“I’ve got ya Y/N, I’m heading towards the roof” a pause as Clint shuffles into place “alrighty, count to five.”

You don’t try to search for him, you trust that he’s there. Instead you concentrate on clawing yourself into a standing position, clenching your teeth painfully to try and ignore the smarting pain radiating from your ankle. Your suit is torn in several places and blood drips slowly onto the rubble beneath you, looking black and shiny like tar. “I’m going off” you announce, and turn off your com.

You suck in a sharp, nervous breath, clear your throat, and then, just as you reach the number five in your head, you run.

The big guys with the launchers fall first. Only a second between the sharp whiz of an arrow cutting through the air and the hollow thunk of it stabbing through the center of someone’s chest. You don’t turn to look, you already know Clint’s got your back, and you trust him not to let you die.

Your lips are pressed into a tight line as you run through the pain of your broken ankle. A man covered from head to toe in black goes to cut you off, and you try to purse your lips to whistle. You don’t quite manage it, panting like you are, but turning your head in his general direction and opening your mouth to let out a short, high-pitched scream seems to work just fine. The pitch is just right, as always, and his skull shatters in an instant, he’s dead before he hits the floor, blood dribbling from the corner of his mouth. His eyes red and unseeing.

You can hear men falling behind you, and you make sure to throw Clint a thumbs up in thanks before ducking into the building. Just as you think you’ve made it, you feel someone grab onto your belt, trying to yank you back. But suddenly a red, blinking arrow sticks to the outside of the building. Your heart jumps. You know what this means.

You throw yourself forward with all your weight, falling to the ground with the man that grabbed you. You cover your head with your arms just as the arrow explodes and sends rubble falling all around you, sealing the entrance and crushing the man behind you.

“Blegh” you cough after a second, dislodging his bloody hand with your thumb and pointer finger, the only part of him that you can see under the stone. You sniff and wipe at your face with your forearm before looking all around you.

The place is dark compared to the harsh light from outside, and it takes you a couple of blinks to adjust. You can still hear the battle going on outside, but your com is still off, so the sound is muted. Distantly, the Hulk roars, and you allow yourself to smirk as you start to trudge forward, pebbles crunching under your feet.

You walk for about a minute, slowing down to a steady limp as you search the corridors for the door you’re looking for. Your mouth is dry and tastes of dust, and you can’t wait to be done and get home. This stopped being fun as soon as you broke your ankle.

Just as you’re about to round the corner and start hopping up the stairs you hear footsteps coming closer, at least five men. You hurriedly duck around a corner and start whistling. _And if I kiss you, in the garden, in the moonlight, will you pardon me?_ It’s a tune that they must recognize, because they stop talking immediately.  _And tiptoe, through the tulips, with meeeee_. The last whistled note of the song hangs in the air.

You can hear them drawing close with quiet, cautious steps. But before they can find you you turn around the corner to face them. Your easy, open smile a contrast to your ragged appearance.

“Boys” you greet, miming the tipping of a hat. “Sorry to bother you, but I’ll be needing that” you nod to the laptop case that one of them is carrying. The cocking of a gun makes you sigh. You hurt all over, and that seems to directly affect your patience.

“Well then.”

You don’t even bother whistling, you just open your mouth and scream. All the men’s hands fly to their ears, their screams mixing with your own. Their ears are bleeding, and some of them drop to the ground almost immediately, but you don’t stop. Instead you wait until the last one’s eyes roll to the back of his head and he drops to the ground like a sack of potatoes.

You step carefully around their unconscious forms and snatch the strap of the bag before hurrying to the back entrance. You switch your com back on as you go.

“I got the bag” you say after checking the contents. Someone whoops and you chuckle. “I’m heading out right now.”

“Nice job Tweety” You can barely hear Tony through the static, you must have damaged your com again, damn. “Pick up’s in ten.”

You admit you were distracted, eager to get home and tired from the mission. It feels like you’re done and you’re foolish enough to let your guard down.

“HEY!!” The man shouts from behind you, and doesn’t give you time to turn around before firing his gun.

And  _oh_ , someone’s hit you with a bat, or a crowbar, or something equally as painful. But that doesn’t make sense, because instead of the sound of crunching bone you hear a quick, wet squelch, and see the long spray of blood come out of your shoulder where the bullet went clean through. Fucking  _ouch_.

You go down slowly. Like maybe cap’s told you to drop and give him twenty, or like you’re stretching out onto your couch after a long day. Except the world warps and blurs like you’re pulling it along, and the ground hurts your back when you connect.

The floor shakes around you as you land, and you blearily think  _‘Hey, I’m not that heavy_.’ But then the Hulk roars from above you, shielding you from the still firing machine gun.

Which would certainly explain why the wound hurts so damn much. You feel like if someone were to touch you, you’d puke. There’s a commotion going on around you, but you can’t be bothered to look. “I’m hit” you gasp, staring into the sky, star-fished on the ground and blinking dust and tears from your eyes. “I’m hit” you say again, not sure if anyone’s heard you. God, your ears are ringing.

“Girl” the Hulk grunts, presumably back from crushing the man like one cracks open a peanut shell.

“Yes darling?” You pant. You try for a smile but only manage a grimace. You can hear yelling through your ear piece, but you can only focus on one conversation at the time.

“Hurt” he states, although it’s probably a question, judging by his furrowed brow.

“Yes, darling” you reply. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to pass out right now, since help is on the way. You close your eyes.

He doesn’t seem to like this, because he goes to pick you up like he usually does when you’re being uncooperative. Except right now that’s a really bad idea and also a really big ow.

You cry out, eyes shooting open as sharp pain shoots through your whole body. He drops you with a worried noise, and you yelp as you hit the ground again. Every breath causes the wound to shift, and the pain makes you dizzy.

Stark lands somewhere near you with a loud clang, and manages to take half a step forward before the Hulk growls at him. He backs away, hands up in a placating gesture.

“I’m fine” you gasp, sounding decidedly not fine. But the Hulk is huffing in increasingly anxious tones, and you want to calm him down before this turns into an even bigger mess. “Just, don’t pick me up, alright?” Your voice squeaks at the end.

He doesn’t look convinced.

“Help is coming, they’re gonna patch me right up” you’re dizzy and everything hurts, but you don’t try to close your eyes again.

“Hulk help”

This time you do smile, although you’re sure it looks loopy. “Yeah, big guy, you’re really good at keeping me safe.” He glances anxiously at the rest of the team, who are slowly arriving. You wonder if he’ll let the medical team get anywhere near you.

“No” he grunts “Hulk help” you blink at him, not understanding. He moves like he’s going to pick you up again, but thankfully thinks better of it. Instead he leans in close, like a child sharing a secret. “Banner help, Banner little doctor.”

Oh.  _Oh, that’s sweet._  You wish you could move without feeling immense pain, so you could maybe give him a hug.

“That’s nice buddy” you say instead. And if anyone asks you’ve just been shot, and you’re allowed to shed a tear, goddamnit. “Bruce can help.”

The change is smooth, the Hulk moves away, a low, guttural groan shifting into a more human one. And when he comes back into your line of sight he’s Bruce again. He’s draped in his gray blanket, pale and sweating. Someone must have brought his backpack.

“Hey” you whisper, smiling.

He shushes you sharply, kneeling down next to you to look at your shoulder. You roll your eyes.

The others are starting to creep closer, now that they can, but Steve keeps them from getting too close and crowding your space.

“They’ll be here any second” Natasha says, eyeing you. A few months ago you would have thought her gaze to be disapproving, but now you know she’s just worried.

“Did he hurt you” Bruce grits out, right next to your ear. He’s always a bit… fragile, after he shifts back.

“Nah, just worried about me. Was cool with giving you back” you turn your head to look at him as best as you can “it was sweet.” You decide not to tell him about the man that shot you, who now lays crumpled and dead next to the building’s entrance. You think that’s sweet too, but you know Bruce won’t agree.

He prods at your ankle and you hiss. You had almost forgotten, you feel like one solid mass of pain.

“You’ll be fine” he breathes finally, and the team breathes out too. “But please don’t do that again” he says that part quietly, just for you. And then plants a quick, chaste kiss on your lips. He turns away after a moment, getting redder by the second. You huff out a laugh through your nose, amused at his embarrassment.

“Sure thing darling” you can hear the quinjet above you. Bruce smiles to himself.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on Tumblr @soopranatural


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